


Hot buttered corn

by Kaeos (Tennyo)



Category: Sooperbloop
Genre: Crack written for a challenge, Dean takes one for the team, I dunno if this is, Just um..., Other, SPN Coldest Hits, SQUICK WARNING LIKE WHOA, and Dean tells a story, but it's not too graphic, but not that way, but then Sam gets squicked, dub-con, implied consumption of said vegetable afterwards, it gets a little gross, it's corn BTW, non-con, or what - Freeform, read author notes I guess for more info, so it starts out OK, someone gets fucked with a vegetable, yes I misspelled their names on PURPOSE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:52:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6234025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Kaeos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OK, so Cas decides to do something nice for the Winchesters and make dinner.<br/>But when Sam gets grossed out by one of the items, Dean feels it's his civic duty to explain why.<br/>(PLEASE READ TAGS / NOTES)</p><p>You guys, I want to apologize. I tried to tone down the graphically gross part, and I'm still hitting ppl right in the squick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot buttered corn

**Author's Note:**

> Like the tags say, the story starts out innocent. But then it takes a terrible turn. You should be able to figure out where.  
> WARNING there are coerced sexual acts. (IDK if dubious or non-con, so I tagged for both)  
> These sexual acts are performed with a vegetable.  
> If you consider corn a vegetable.  
> Possibly some ageist remarks.  
> Someone eats said corn afterwards. *you have been warned*  
> Original idea came from a joke from the 80's (I think. It's been a while, and it might actually be an older joke, but I'm pretty sure I heard it in the late 80's. Or early 90's.)  
> The explanation for this story can be found in the notes at the end.

Castiel thought it would be a good idea to do something nice for the Winchesters. That is how he finds himself in Smith Center, a half hour away from the bunker. Gene’s Heartland Foods, right off US-36, is a fairly convenient grocery store, with an adjacent gas station. After doing the shopping, Castiel can fill up the Lincoln’s tank as well.

Inside, he finds the store’s weekly flyer, and discovers pork chops are on sale. Surely the Winchester boys would like pork chops, right? After picking out a package of meat that looks like it would satisfy both men, Castiel looks for something to go with it. He sees a display of ground coffee on sale, and adds that to his basket as well. In the produce aisle, he finds a large bag of potatoes, suitable for baking, frying, mashing, or whatever else they might like. A cucumber, carrots, leafy lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and fresh corn go into the basket. Hopefully, his shopping will make the Winchester brothers happy.

After getting gas, Castiel starts his drive back home. Halfway back, he stops at a fruit stand and picks up a bag full of ripe peaches. Continuing on back to the bunker, Castiel smiles.

Once inside with his purchases, Castiel notices that neither Sam nor Dean appear to be in. With a shrug, he heads to the kitchen to put away his purchases, and prepare a wonderful meal.

About an hour later, there is a pot of boiling potatoes on a back burner, and pork chops are searing in a pan. When they’re ready, he’ll put the pork in the oven and start the water for corn. There is still no sign of the Winchester brothers, and Castiel is wondering if they will be back in time for dinner.

Pork in the oven and timer set, Castiel turns on the burner for the next pot, and texts Sam.

C- Do you and Dean plan on returning to the bunker in time for an evening meal?

_S- Yeah, we were gonna pick up a couple of pizzas, why?_

C- Oh. I was planning on cooking. Nevermind, I’ll place everything in containers for tomorrow.

_D- Sammy sez ur COOKING! Better not be gross will b back b4 7_

Castiel smiles at his phone, and notices the water for the corn is boiling. One at a time, he slips in the cobs of pale yellow sweet corn.

While everything cooks, Castiel washes lettuce, slices cucumber, and scrubs carrots to prepare the salad.

* * *

 

Dean and Sam come down the spiral staircase to the smell of cooked pork, potatoes, and corn. They find the table set for two, with real plates, knives, forks, linen napkins that Castiel found, and glass tumblers with cold bottles of beer sweating next to them. Castiel peeks his head around the corner from the vicinity of the kitchen, and tells them to wash up before eating. Dean races to his room to strip off his sweaty flannel and wash his face.

By the time he returns to the main room, Cas has brought out a plate of damn fine looking pork chops, a bowl of creamy mashed potatoes with a melting blob of butter in the middle of it sits on the table. And there’s a plate of golden, steaming corn on the cob, dripping with butter. Groaning, Dean sits in a chair, and his nose is assaulted with the smell of vinegar. He looks down to see a bowl of salad. Next to it is a cruet of red wine vinaigrette.

A Fucking. Salad. Bright red tomatoes, julienned carrots, and sliced cucumbers adorn a bed of leafy green lettuce. And there’s not a crouton in sight. Maybe if there were croutons and a dressing like Ranch or something could he choke this down. But vinaigrette? Ain’t no fucking way.

A glance tells him he didn’t sit in the wrong seat, because there’s another salad bowl by Sam’s plate, too. Before he can try to dump his salad into Sam’s bowl, Cas comes in with salt and pepper shakers.

“Hello, Dean. I hope you two enjoy the meal I prepared today. Your diets mainly consist of greasy restaurant food, so I thought it would be a good gesture to make something a bit more healthy.”

“Yeah, thanks, Cas.” Dean coughs. “But… You know I don’t eat this green leafy shit, man. Why’d you make me a _salad_?”

Cas pursed his lips and looked down at the bowl of vegetation before looking back up at Dean. “Because it is delicious and nutritious, Dean. The vinaigrette I’ve prepared will help bring out the natural flavors of the produce and aid digestion.” With a sigh, Cas looks back up at Dean. “Of course, if you don’t want the pie I’m baking for dessert, then I can give Sam a double portion.”

Dean sputters and grasps Cas’ wrist as the angel tries to remove Dean’s salad bowl. “You made _PIE_?!?”

Doing that thing where he stares down his nose, the corner of Cas’ mouth ticks up. “It is ready for the oven, and will bake while you eat. I picked up fresh peaches.”

Mouth salivating at the thought of fresh peach pie, Dean releases Cas’ wrist. “I’ll eat the damn salad.”

With a superior look, Cas nods and releases the bowl. Just then, Sam walks in, and grins widely at the spread.

“You made all of this, Cas?”

Cas nods, and waves to Sam’s chair. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable, I need to finish preparing dessert.”

As Cas heads back to the kitchen, Sam sits down, and watches as Dean serves himself a heaping pile of potatoes, and slaps two pork chops down on his plate. Then, he watches as Dean pours some vinaigrette over his salad, shales some pepper over it, and starts scarfing it down with a scowl. This is a shocking sight, Dean willingly eating salad. Even though he doesn’t look pleased.

“Dean, are you alright?”

“Shuddup, Sam,” Dean says around a mouthful of lettuce.

Ignoring his brother, Sam serves himself a pork chop and a couple spoonfuls of mashed potatoes. They’re not as good as Jody’s cooking, but he can tell that Cas took great care in trying to prepare everything properly. The pork chop is perfectly cooked. He’s eating his salad when Cas comes back into the room.

“Are you enjoying the meal?”

Sam swallows his bite of salad and says, “Yeah, Cas, it’s great. We really appreciate you going to all the trouble.”

“Oh, it was no trouble at all.” Cas glances at the table, and then at Sam’s plate, frowning. “Do you not like corn, Sam?”

Oh. Shit. Sam glances at the corn sitting on the serving plate, butter congealing underneath the cobs, glistening between individual kernels. His stomach twists. “Uhm, it’s not that I don’t like corn…” How can he explain this?

Dean speaks up, lifting his mouth from his second cob, yellow corn flesh between his teeth. “He likes corn just fine. Just can’t eat it off the cob, isn’t that right, Sammy?”

Sam scowls at Dean before glancing up at Cas, who is wearing his thinking frown while he looks at the leftover corn. _Please let this go, please_.

“Is there really that much difference if it’s been separated from the cob before eating?”

Sam gives Dean a warning look, but the devious grin spreading across his face spells trouble.

“Sit down, Cas. Lemme tell you a story.”

“Dean, no.” Sam puts on his best stern expression, but Dean merely winks at him.

“C’mon, Sammy, let’s tell Cas the reason you don’t like corn on the cob.”

One hand clenched around the napkin in his lap, Sam full on glares at Dean. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

With a smirk, Dean takes a slow sip of beer, then carefully places the glass down with a thunk. “So it was 2006.”

Face heating, Sam slams back from the table, throws his napkin on his plate, and hisses, “You’re an asshole!” Before stomping to his room. He will NOT sit and listen to this damn story.

* * *

 

Castiel watches Sam leave, and gives a sad look at Sam’s abandoned plate and unfinished meal. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know the corn would be so upsetting.”

Dean waves a hand in dismissal as he picks up his beer again. “Nah, he’s just being pissy because the story makes him look bad.”

“Then perhaps I shouldn't hear it.”

“Oh no, Cas,” Dean shakes his head and points a finger at him. “You’re going to hear this one.”

* * *

 

It was late winter, and the Impala’s heater wasn’t working properly. Both Sam and Dean were bundled up in extra layers as they traveled down a lonely back road. Dean promised to stop at the next motel they found, and try to warm up.

Suddenly a billow of steam exploded from under the hood, and Baby started making unhappy noises. After Dean carefully navigated her over to the side of the road and got to look under the hood, he discovered that the radiator hose had come loose. They didn’t have enough water to top her off again until they reached anything like civilization. He wasn’t sure if he could rig the hose to stay put for that long, either.

Sam pointed to a dirt road leading off the road, and a leaning dilapidated mailbox next to it. “Maybe they can let us have some water, or borrow some tools?”

The brothers zipped up their jackets and started walking down the muddy drive toward the extremely run-down house at the end. “Wanna bet it’s haunted?” Dean asked while rubbing his hands together for warmth.

“I hope not,” Sam replied, curling his hands into fists in his own pockets.

After climbing the unstable steps onto the creaky porch, Sam rang the doorbell. The tinny sound of the bell could be heard through the door. Dean gave his brother a cocky half smile. “Bell rings, let’s just hope someone’s home.”

They stood there for about thirty seconds, and then Dean banged on the door. After almost a whole minute, they finally heard the sound of someone inside, turning the lock with a scraping sound. The door creaked open about an inch, and Dean could just make out a watery eye and scraggly grey hair.

“What do you want?” The rusty voice of an old woman wafted from the crack in the door.

“Hey, so we’re having car trouble, and was wondering if we could warm up a bit, maybe get some water for the radiator?” Dean turned on his charming smile.

The door creaked open another inch, and the musty smell of old urine wafted out and reached Dean’s nostrils. He strained to keep his smile in place.

The old woman behind the door stepped back to look at them with both eyes. “You a couple of queers?”

Dean’s head snapped back as if he’d been slapped. Luckily, Sam picked up the slack with his “soothe the victim” voice. “No, ma’am, we’re brothers, and are supposed to meet our dad in the next town. All we need is some time to warm up, a little water for the radiator, maybe some duct tape? And we’ll be out of your hair.”

The woman looked up, up, up at Sam, took in his height, then looked over at Dean. “Well, come on in. No purpose letting all the heat out standing around an open door.”

She opened the door just enough for the brothers to slip inside one at a time. The smell of stale urine was stronger now, and Dean cleared his throat in discomfort. Sam looked torn between appearing friendly and shoving his hands in his jacket to avoid touching anything. It was dingy-dark inside, the heavy curtains blocking the sun, a couple of dusty lamps providing illumination. The woman was short, back hunched over in an osteoarthritic curve, long grey hair going every which way. She wore a pilly housecoat that zipped up the front, and dark, matted slippers.

Hand beckoning, thin skin stretched over old bones, the woman led them into the kitchen. Done in a 50’s style, Dean was assaulted with mint green countertops and peeling red vinyl on the chairs. The floor might have had a pattern to it, but it was all worn-in dirt. Crusty pots and pans littered the stove and countertop, with dirty dishes in the sink. Dean started to feel sorry for the woman, living alone like this with nobody to help out.

They stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen for a moment before Dean spoke. “So, um, the water?”

The old woman waved at the sink. “It’s all right there.”

Sam was the one to speak up next. “But we don’t have anything to carry it in?”

With a roll of her eyes, the woman sighed. “So unprepared, asking me for help, and now I have to get some jugs.” She eyes both brothers for a moment. Tell you what, I could use a hand with something. Do me a little favor, and you’ll get your jugs.”

The brothers glanced at each other, and Dean said, “What can we do for you, ma’am?”

At that, a sly, brown-toothed grin cracked the woman’s features. “It gets awful lonely out here by myself. Been some time since I had company.”

She slid up to Dean close enough he could see the dandruff at her scalp. “If you were to show an old lady a good time, I could get you those jugs, and maybe my dead husband’s old toolbox.”

Along with the smell of urine, this close, Dean could smell it had been a while since the woman had bathed. “Sorry, you’re not really my type,” he grated out.

In his peripheral vision, Dean saw Sam edging toward the kitchen counter. The old woman tilted her head back and cackled, actually cackled, her foul breath making Dean step back. “You make it sound like you have much of a choice.”

Dean took another step back and gestured at her slight frame. “Sorry honey, but you don’t really look like you could stop either of us.”

With a sour smile, the old woman turned to Sam. “Try for yourself. Go on, try to open the back door.”

Sam was only a couple steps away from the door in question, so he reached for the handle, gave it a twist, and pulled. It didn’t budge. He checked the lock and deadbolt, but no matter what, the door would not open. Dean continued stepping back until he was near the entry that led to the rest of the house. Before he could slip through, the old woman pointed a finger at him.

“You can try every door and window in this old house, and you’ll find them the same.”

Dammit. Okay, so the house wasn’t haunted. But it just HAD to be inhabited by a _witch_. Sam lunged for a carving knife sitting out on the kitchen counter, and she spun to face him, wagging a finger.

“Ahh, ahh! If you do that, the both of you will be trapped here forever! Killing me will not break the spell!”

Dean and Sam looked at each other, and Sam placed the knife back on the counter. “What do you want us to do, then?”

The witch looked between the two brothers hungrily. “Like I said, just looking for a good time. Been awfully lonely since my dear old Harold died.”

Dean’s stomach twisted. He didn’t like where this was headed. “A good time? So what? Board games? Maybe some Uno?”

Leaning against the dining table, the old witch actually tried to look coy. “The only thing that will break the spell and give you freedom is if I have an orgasm.”

The boys looked at each other, and convened at the other end of the kitchen.

“We gonna do this?”

“Do you wanna risk getting trapped?”

“Dude, she could be lying about her death not breaking the spell.”

“Do you REALLY wanna risk that?”

“...”

“...”

“Rock paper scissors?”

“Dude, no!”

They stared at each other silently for a moment, until Dean broke. “Fine, I’ll take one for the team. But you SO owe me. You owe me to INFINITY.”

Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder, glanced at the witch, then the doorway to the dining room. “I’ll just…” Looking at his feet, he hustled out of the room, closing the door behind him.

So there Dean was, standing in a room smelling of dirt, old food, and stale piss. And the old witch needed to get off before she’d let them leave. Well, as the old saying went, there was more than one way to skin a cat.

“Where’s this going down then?”

Shrugging, the witch pulled herself up to sit on the table. “Here’s as good a place as any.”

“Hey, it’s your boat that needs floating.” Dean took a deep breath and tried to mentally prepare for this. _You can do this. She’s lonely, and will probably get off really quick. Just gotta do what you can and get it over with_.

The witch unzipped her housecoat revealing she was wearing dingy old cotton panties and matching bra. It was all Dean could do to keep from gagging at the smell of her unwashed body. After helping her take off the bra, he helped her lie down on the table.

Staring at her saggy, pasty breasts and veiny torso, Dean tried to take shallow breaths so he didn’t have to smell her. It wasn’t working well, and he already felt like he needed a long, hot shower. He cupped the sagging mammary glands, and slid his fingertips down to the edge of her high-waisted, old-fashioned panties. With a gulp, he hooked his fingers in the waistband, and tugged them down past her hips. She lifted up so he can get the underwear to her legs, and pulls them off the rest of the way.

“You should take off your jacket at least, get comfortable,” the witch said, licking her lips while she stared up at Dean from the table.

Dean swallowed, grabbed her knees, and lifted so her feet were on the table. Looking down, he saw her aged sex. Lips between his teeth, he began the arduous task of getting her wet with his fingers. It wasn’t working well, so he looked around the room and spotted some cooking oil.

“Just… gimme a sec.”

When he grabbed the bottle, he noticed a plate stacked with cooked corn on the cob. There were three of them, the top one looking a little wrinkly from being left out on the counter. An idea formed in his mind, and he took the plate to the table, placing it on a shuttered ledge that opened to the dining room. Hey, she didn’t say _how_ he got her off, just that he had to get her to orgasm. With oil slicked fingers, he went back to his task.

After some minutes, she finally started squirming and generating her own moisture. Hand starting to cramp, Dean swapped out, and looked at the sticky residue. He hoped this didn’t traumatize him for when he actually found someone hot to do this with.

By the time she was all wet and moaning, asking for more, Dean pulled one of the moister looking pieces of corn from the bottom of the stack. Slowly he inserted it, and when she didn’t complain, began working it vigorously. Damn, but this old witch took forever! He had to keep swapping arms, and had to change put the corn twice.

Unfortunately, when he reached for the last cob, he pushed the corn over the ledge, out into the dining room. Hopefully, this one would do the trick. Apparently the rough texture of the more dried corn really got her going, so Dean pulled out every little trick he knew, used encouraging words, his best technique, even stroked her clit. Even still, with her moaning and leaking alll over the table, she kept clinging to the edge of orgasm.

What felt like eons later, both arms sore from working corn into her hole, he finally saw the witch’s body shudder, and she threw her head back with a wail. He almost dropped the corn in relief. While she came down from her orgasm, Dean threw away the incriminating corn, and washed his hands as thoroughly as he could at her sink.

Yeah, he’ll definitely need a Silkwood shower after this. After his hands were as clean as they can get there, Dean checked the back door and found it unlocked. Sitting on the top step were a couple empty jugs, so he brought them in and filled them up for the Impala. When he finally turned around to face the room, Dean saw the witch had zipped her housecoat back up, but was still laid out on the table, basking in the afterglow.

“Well, uhh… thanks for the water, I guess.” He really didn’t want to piss her off now that she was letting them go.

“No, thank you,” she said, brushing hair back from her forehead.

Dean had a hand on the doorknob to go find Sam when she said, “If you look in the shed around back, you might find some old tools to fix your car. Feel free to take what you need.”

“Um, thanks.”

Dean stepped out of the kitchen, and was surprised to see Sam sitting at the dining table. He had a pair of earbuds in, and must have been listening to something to occupy himself.

“Hey,” Dean waved to get his attention. “I got the water. You ready to get outta here?”

They found what they needed in the shed, hiked back to the car, and got her running again in no time. Back behind the wheel, Dean let out a deep sigh. “You know, normally about now, I’d be craving a big ol’ burger. But I think I finally found something that could out off my appetite.”

Sam nodded. “I can imagine.”

Dean swatted his brother’s chest with the back of his hand. “But hey, you haven’t had anything to eat since this morning. You can still get something.”

“Oh, um, I actually found a snack while we were there, since you were in the kitchen for so long.”

Dean frowned. What could Sam have possibly found to eat in that house? “Really?”

“Yeah, the corn you shoved through the window? I thought you felt bad for keeping me waiting, and managed to find something for me to eat.”

Dean felt like he was going to have to pull over and puke.

* * *

 

After Dean finishes his story, Castiel feels bad for Sam. He clears away the dishes, puts away the leftovers, and gives a generous slice of peach pie to Dean. He then puts another slice on a plate, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and knocks gently on Sam’s door.

“What do you want?” Sam calls.

Castiel cracks open the door, sticking his head through as well as the plate of pie. “I am sorry for traumatizing you with dinner. If I’d known, I would have never considered serving you that.”

Sam smiles, and takes the plate from Castiel. “That’s OK Cas, it wasn’t your fault, and wasn’t Dean’s right to tell the story.”

Castiel nods and steps back through the door. “I just want you to know that I would never willingly feed you something that either Dean or I have had intercourse with.”

At that, he silently closes the door, leaving Sam staring slack-jawed at the door.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who are now wondering if I've lost my mind, this was written for the [March SPN Coldest Hits challenge.](http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/139476843265/march-rules-reblog-this-post-to-enter-your-fic)  
> I encourage you to PLEASE go read all the others (or not, you might be traumatized) and leave comments on everyone else's fics, thanks.  
> [You can find them here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/SPNColdestHits)  
> Please don't expect replies until after judging is complete
> 
> You guys, I want to apologize. I tried to tone down the graphically gross part, and I'm still hitting ppl right in the squick.


End file.
